Phase I Lore
Seldom speaking to one another on account of what some might call a difference of opinion the four leading authorities on Abominables; Eric Winters of Antarctica, Nigel Freeman of South America, Kate Middles of the North American Woodlands and Kurtis Jones of Australia & New Zealand have all began, as of late, to notice in their respective areas a restlessness amongst the tribes.
Their combined understanding of creatures, of whom most don’t dare considering might exist, is so vast that were it brought to light it would prove to unbalance the very conventions by which modern science stands. Regarded by those who uphold said conventions to be fools, lonesome adventurers plagued by their overactive imaginations they pursue in the face of adversity a deeper understanding of the Abominables. Sparked by that which entices most Abominable Hunters to pursue such creatures the argument could be made that they were both fortunate and unfortunate enough to have caught glimpse of an Abominable silhouette at an early age.
Born into the sort of wealth that only comes from Wall Street, Eric Winters has the unique luxury of being able to focus the entirety of his time and efforts into the hunting of Abominables. Hiring the very best people and equipment money can buy and dragging across Antarctica his gourmet encampment Eric lives a life unlike any other adventurer, Abominable Hunter or otherwise.
Having had to work for his wealth, infamous art dealer Nigel Freeman still dabbles in the odd trade here and there. Offering up his expertise as a consultant to modern museums between expeditions he verifies the odd piece of art’s authenticity where he can. Age catching up and his vision deteriorating Nigel spends the majority of his time tending to the poor and uneducated villagers born and raised unto the jungle he traverses frequently; acquiring slowly the trust and respect of the locals.
Kurtis spends his summers teaching tourists to dive in Australia and his winters teaching tourists to ski in New Zealand. Working five months out of the year so as to support the remaining seven Kurtis is careful with every dollar. Showering infrequently, foraging regularly and camping wherever he can get away with it there are few people more willing to rough it than he is. Were you to ask the other hunters they would undoubtedly agree, a rarity that they do, that Kurtis and his trusty canine companion are most definitely the most determined of the four.
Last but not least Kate Middles can be described as anything but shy. Bubbly, short, enthusiastic and with the sort of long blonde hair and legs that turns all sorts of heads she’s long waited tables wherever she went. Falling victim to an ongoing illness as a result of working in a coal mine Kate’s father recently passed, affording her in his absence a modest fortune. Forever freed from table waiting Kate, much like Eric, now has the ability to hone her efforts and hunt Abominables full time and without distraction.
The Abominable Hunters, as those who respect their profession refer to them as, have each began noticing certain irregularities. A restlessness if you will. The sort of restlessness that unsettles our hunters so very much that all four have as of late reached for pen and paper with intent to write one another in spite of their vast differences of opinion, in spite of their bitter pasts and in spite of their pride.
Something, somewhere, is stirring.
You’re something else. I don’t hear from you in four years and when I do it’s not to offer your condolences but to remind me of the time I had to wear a curtain back to the room because you left our clothes on the balcony and ripped the room’s only robe out of my hands. You’re always lecturing strangers about how us southern gals never quit while we’re ahead but maybe it’s you that ought to consider quitting.
And why are you always happy? And smiling, and calm as can be while the world around you is upside down. Sometimes it feels as though I resent and admire you at the same time. It’s exhausting, Kurtis.
Now I know you and Nigel think I’m crazy but the Northern-Woods-Yeti as Nigel refers to it as exists. I’ve seen his coat tails twice now and I’ll have my third official sighting the moment I stare into those big beautiful eyes of his. Just you wait. It may sound crazy but I’m here to tell you that every year for the last several he’s made his way up here to break bread with the Sasquatch King.
If you’re gonna write me back, Kurt, leave out any judgement. You know what it’s like in this business; you spend half your life counting yourself fortunate enough to have gotten one good sighting and the other half cursing yourself for throwing away whatever life it was you had prior. Maybe you and I would have been wiser to cut ties with hunting and tied knots way back when on that island off of the Philippines. I couldn’t tell you which one, it's all a blur. All I remember is a line of empty margarita glasses from the hotel door to the dresser, each of them half rimmed with salt and with a keeled over lime at the center. Looking back Kurtis Jones, we were fools to have ever left that place.
I know why you wrote me the month my father passed, I know why you didn’t mention his name, I know why you wrote what you wrote and I know why it worked so well. I laughed, and cried, and smiled and sobbed as I revisited that morning mentally. Bruce barking, the neighbors whispering and all the while wearing a curtain twice my height. That was one of the best days of my life, Kurt. Thanks for reminding me.
How is young Brucie? Heck I s’pose he ain’t so young no more. Must be getting on eight or nine and yet when I close my eyes, he’s still a pup. Give him a hug and kiss for me won’t ya? Tell him I’d like to see him again some day. Tell him he still has a place in my heart and that I still think of him from time to time. Tell him I hope there’s no hard feelings.
I forget who it was that said life’s just one tragedy after the other but they were too bloody right for their own good and ought to have been taken out back and shot. It took your letter some time to reach me and admittedly it took me some time to respond. It's been hectic down under. First came the fires, then the car engine packed in, then finally Brucie went on a good ol’ two day walk-about through the marshlands giving me a right scare. He keeps doing that. I don’t know what his deal is. It’s as if he suddenly decides to get as far away from me as he possibly can for no rational reason. Ah well, probably just his age setting in. He's ten next month.
It feels like it’s been years since I’ve stood outside what’s left of this sun beaten post office. I think I’m in need of a beer or two.
On top of everything else going on, I, an experienced tracker with fourteen years under my belt, can’t seem to find a single track. Nada; no animals, no Abominables, there’s barely a bloody insect in sight. I can't make heads or tails of it. It’s as if the Abominables took a vote, decided to hell with it, hunted the entire center of Australia to extinction then stepped through a portal to another realm. I spent four months out there Kate, and I’m here to tell you I was the only living soul out there. Granted, half the continent’s been on fire as of late but nonetheless, something, somewhere, surely survived.
Palau, the island’s name was Palau. Looking back, we were certainly fools. It’s as that prick said, just one tragedy after the other I'm afraid.
Had a chat with old mate Brucie. He reckons there’s no hard feelings; says there never was, not when things got hard, not when things got complicated and not even when a certain someone threw an unopened bottle of cologne across the room as hard as they possibly could. Says he misses you.
Why didn’t we work out- where was it that we faltered?
You’re tall, charming and ain’t so bad on the eyes. You always knew how to make me feel special, how to make me feel wanted, how to make me blush. Maybe that was the problem. You were too charming and made all manner of women blush. Not that I’ve any room to talk. I know I’m just as much to blame if not more for how things turned out between us.
It’s funny. Only a couple dozen sentences long and yet I’ve been carrying this letter around with me for seven weeks too terrified to mail it. I suppose it’s on account of the last paragraph and how I’ll feel if it were to happen, what might come up if it does and how well I’ll cope during the days that follow should my eardrums rest upon your sweet, sultry voice.
I’ll have service through the entire month and happen to know that you’ll be with Nigel in Panama for the last ten days of November. Nigel has my number and I know that you will both be busy but one night after a nightcap with Nigel. Won’t you call me, Kurtis Jones?
I’m well thanks, appreciate you asking. Always a pleasure to hear from a fellow hunter. Helps me keep track of who is and who isn't still breathing out there. I dare say I’ve been fortunate enough to have my fifth official sighting which was, and forgive me for rubbing it in, my best yet. Positioning myself well I sat in wait for the Mapinguari I was expecting. Rustling through the jungle he appeared, majestic and glorious. Placing his hand through a tree’s trunk the way one parts a waterfall to retrieve from it's core what could best be described as an ancient weapon the creature vanished. I dare say it’s concerning to witness a creature whose skin could only be punctured by those long extinct equip a large weapon intended for warfare. Perhaps there is, amongst the Mapinguari ranks, a political struggle underway?
Although I remain unconvinced that what you’ve caught glimpse of all the way up there is in fact a Yeti, I do confess myself intrigued. There seems to be, on a global scale, strange occurrences underway. Most animals, as I’m sure you know, possess an internal calendar/clock that they're in tune with. Although humans are mesmerised by this ability whenever we catch sight of a turtle laying eggs on a moonlit beach or a flock of ducks migrating south for the winter, odds are we too possess it. What I’m trying to convey to you is that there is indeed a universal language beneath the world’s surface even if we're numb to it. I can only assume given the specifics you outlined previously that the Abominables you’ve been monitoring annually are privy to said language.
Something is indeed stirring. A changing of the guard, a flipping of the board, for all we know a whole new era is afoot. All we need to do now is sit back and wait for a bat-crazed Eric Winters theory to arrive via Apache Helicopter and we’ll know for sure that we're on schedule for the apocalypse.
I’m terribly sorry to hear about your father, Kate. I always liked the man, sober or not. For all the poor habits he happened to carry he always carried a generous heart. I know you’d rather have him back in your life than have all the money in the world but look on the bright side, kiddo, after all his labor the man is finally allowed to rest. You’ll likely never have to wait on any tables again. So strap on your boots, fill up a hydration pack and get to hunting because this job is frustrating and challenging and incredibly difficult to convey to those you meet but I’ll be damned if it isn’t the most rewarding thing that you or anyone else will ever do.
With the warmest of regards and the sincerest of condolences,
To Nigel, Kaitlin and even Kurtis,
In spite of our differing opinions I write to you on account of alarming abnormalities. For starters I’ve found evidence of numerous Antarctic Abominables having huddled themselves into small spaces. Communicating through the use of sticks and stones in their typical primitive manner they’ve become uncharacteristically brazen, abandoning all sense of subtlety. I’m confident we can all recall the recent two occasions in which an Abominable has failed to practice subtlety. That fateful November back in 04’ when Avery Solomon caught and killed what he believed to be a deformed grizzly cub only for his wife to return home and find her husbands limbs decorating the yard. You were with me, Kurtis, you saw the aftermath. Then of course there’s the blockbuster Mountain-Massacre of 93' in which five people were torn to shreds in the middle of summer while every major news outlet fought to cover it. We’ve all seen the reports. We all know what happened. The point being that whenever Abominable’s discard their impressive knack for subtlety: acts of violence ensue.
Knowing full well that Nigel will have a field day when he reads what I’m about to write; I’m writing it anyway. My team and I found evidence of markings in the snow. These markings, best we could tell, appeared to be constellation sketches. Now I needn’t persuade any of you given my position on the beasts we track that I wanted nothing more than to dismiss such as folly but having forwarded the findings to an astronomer in the states the data has been confirmed. Antarctic Abominables have some degree of an understanding of the solar system, primitive though it may be.
Lastly I observed with my own eyes a most peculiar looking Yeti who carried upon his back what looked to be a stave. By the time I shifted my weight and readjusted my scope, the beast had vanished from thin air without so much as a footprint to spare.
I know you three think me a madman but I need not remind any of you how easily a handful of Abominables could assume control over a large town, perhaps a small city. Gorillas and lions are to the Abominables as we are to gorillas and lions: a squishy collection of organs. Last I was with Nigel in the flesh he stated proudly that “one could sooner pierce the skin of a shark with a butter knife than they could scratch an Abominable with an assault rifle.”
These abnormalities have me twisted and for all of our sakes I can only hope that they’re exclusive to the frozen tundra I call home. I recommend exercising extreme caution, hunters. Oblivion calls.
- Eric Winters
I know you’ll struggle to believe this but it truly is good to hear from you, my friend. In spite of all that was once said, I can’t help but consider you a dear friend and colleague of whom I’ve still much to learn from.
I too have come across numerous abnormalities, from an Abominable retrieving from a tree’s center a memento best described as an ancient weapon to a systematic howling that echoes through the jungle most nights. It’s as though the animals of the amazon are attempting to wane away the moonlight.
I’ve been in contact with both Kurtis and Kaitlin and can confirm that something global is happening. That said, I’d like to invite you to consider the possibility that the Abominables aren’t so much the cause of said change but are simply more aware of it. Could it be that while we’re busy speculating on their change in behavior- they’re busy speculating on something else entirely? Whether that be the stars above or the crevices below; you know as well as I do that Abominable’s aren’t thrivers, Eric. They’re survivors. Survivors whose attempts to communicate are more likely to be defensive than offensive.
That said, I shall take your recommendation under due consideration and report back should any further bizarre behavior unfold. I truly hope that outside of this profession that you are well and have in life, Eric, found meaning.
Write to Kaitlin, Eric. Don’t write at her, write to her. She’s a clever girl.
I’m yet to receive it but I’m sure if Eric’s addressed one to all three of us then mine can’t be far.It’s peculiar to me that you’re able to receive yours and reply before mine even gets here seen as Eric and I are only one continent apart. Bloody Aussies! Then again, I suppose I’m in the center of a desert island with only two buildings and a pub in sight.
I’d ask whether or not I should be concerned but that would defeat the point of cutting Eric off in the first place. Every time he writes me of the planet’s impending doom I wind up with heart palpitations. It’s nothing but chaos, conspiracies and coordinated assaults on my wellbeing. Remember when he used to wear all black everywhere he went? And that laugh- walk into a room he’s been cackling in and you can taste the acidity. I can only imagine what he’s been calling his latest theory... you’ve no idea what I would give to receive from him a Holiday's Greeting card just the once.
I wrote Nigel a few weeks ago but haven’t heard back. I’m sure he’s busy nurturing one of his many tribesmen back to good health. I can’t recall whether I told you or not but he dragged me deep into the jungle after Panama and introduced me to an entire village. Despite looking the part of man-eating-headhunters they were some of the most endearing and peaceful people I’ve ever met. Their leader, surprisingly young, had some of the greenest eyes I’ve ever come across. Kneeling down before him it felt as though the entire jungle was staring back at me. The day before we flew out Nigel and a handful of the villagers took me to an ancient temple hiding in plain sight on the mountain’s edge. Between the moss and the mist I could barely see the thing until we were standing on it. The inside reminiscent of the Raiders of the Lost Ark film I was terrified my height would trigger any traps yet to be discovered by the four foot eleven tribesmen.
How’re things on your end, Kate? I know better than most how difficult it can be camping three hundred days of the year, are you remembering to stretch? Are you eating well? When did you last shower? Remember to take three or four days to switch off and decompress when you need them- they're important.
You must be getting nearer to your date with the Northern-Woods-Yeti and the so-called-Sasquatch-King! What's the date he always shows? Brucie says to tell you that he misses having you around.
PS – I have 13,402 unread emails.
Can’t say it’s a pleasure. Feels like every time I hear from you the night that follows is hardfought to sleep through. Last we spoke the waterfalls in New Zealand were soon to expel a noxious gas. The time before that you attempted to persuade me that any women older than myself without children was likely to be sterile on account of the world’s water supply. Now you write to inform us of a synchronized Abominable attack? Can’t say I’m surprised.
Dismissing the tonality and insinuations of your letter I am on this rare and momentous occasion inclined to agree. Something is happening, Eric, something big. You once told me that I’m the best tracker you’ve ever known and so I need you to hear me when I say that I haven’t found so much as an upturned twig for months. At first I assumed it was on account of the fires but as I delved further and further into the outback evidence of any wildlife became scarcer. From the beaches, to the red dust bungles, to the marshlands that stretch on forever: I can’t find a thing. It’s as if all the critters and creatures native to the land vanished overnight; probably through the same portal your Yeti did.
Your comments in regards to astronomy have me intrigued. The Mayans, the Sumerians and the Anunnakis used their advanced knowledge of astronomy to deduce planetary shifts. I wonder, if perhaps the Abominable’s are able to see something we can’t?
I read a study once about a primate that existed just prior to the Cretaceous period. This primate, small but clever, wiped out countless predators by gathering in groups and strategizing through the use of sticks and stones. Escaping the jaws of the most ferocious predators, these tiny primates, clever and agile, in the end came to conquer the jungle.
I’m open to corresponding further so as to keep one another in the know so long as you keep that negative ion cloud above your head at bay. Something is happening, Eric and we’d be silly not to remain in touch with one another until we know what.
Three things Nigel,
Firstly the Mapinguari may be the more “peaceful” of the tribes but at the end of the day, the beasts are as the beasts do. Abominables aren’t the planetary guardians you idolize them as. I’ve seen it. You’ve seen it. Kaitlin and Kurtis and those that hunted before us have seen it. Every once in a while the right circumstances arise, their subtlety fades and the true nature of an Abominable shines through.
Secondly, the sight before me as I squat here in the snow jotting down this letter... is nothing shy of utter savagery. I write to you from the sidelines of a scene so horrific that I dare say the devil himself would wince. There must be a thousand wolves before me, bloody and piled; too many to count. I know what you’re going to say. You’ll urge me to seek reason, you’ll urge me to seek cause, to add up every variable- but do you know what, Nigel? As I gagged on the foulness of a thousand corpses, sifting through canine carcasses stacked so high you have to climb the hill before sifting, I remembered something. There is no method to their madness, they’re just monsters disguised as myths.
Last but not least I confess it challenging to engage in an honest debate with those I employ. Alas, I dare say that I miss the banter old man and should our paths cross once more- dinner and drinks are on me.
- Eric Winters
For what it’s worth- you needn’t persuade us of anything. Just because you scare the shit out of us every now and then doesn’t mean that we don’t believe you and just because you and Kurt got into a fist fight half a decade ago over what I’m pretty sure was a turkey sub doesn’t mean you can’t be civil. Something is happening and until we figure out what exactly I think you two need to put in a little more effort. You were once close, remember?
If what you are saying is accurate I suggest exercising extreme caution. Your financial armor won’t spare you the wrath of an Abominable if a fraction of your theory proves accurate. I’m sure by now Kurt’s informed you of the wildlife irregularities in Australia. Apparently the entire continent packed up and left without so much as a trace. I’m confident if he were to run into a pile of dingo corpses yours would be the first letter he writes, Eric.
There’s one last thing I’d like to discuss with you, but I’m a little afraid to go down the rabbit hole… Before we do so would you mind writing me back and describing, in detail, how it is that you theorize the Yetis traveled to and from the Himalayas all those centuries ago? I remember overhearing you explain it to Nigel what seems like a decade ago.
You’re no good to the world dead, Eric.
One piece of information I’m after is whether or not you can confirm whether the Canidae (Dingo) family howl at the moon? Something just doesn’t add up… the Yetis appear to be isolating certain canine families and killing them without bothering to consume a bite of flesh. I can’t figure this one out and yet strangely I’ve a funny feeling once they’ve rid the continent of canines they’ll set their sights on bears. I can’t speak as to why at this stage as it’s more of a feeling than a theory.
Any luck tracking down the whereabouts of the Australian wildlife? I can’t imagine it’s much fun camping out there on an empty stomach. If you can provide me with your exact coordinates I can have a supply crate deployed immediately.
I trust that in spite of the hunger all is in working order on your end?
- Eric Winters
Five spice girls and a didgeridoo walk into a bar. Four stumble out leaving the sober one to carry it. Which Spice Girl remained sober? Take a minute to think about it. You’re plenty clever- you’ll narrow it down in no time. Forgive me, I’ve had a beer, or two, or ten.
How’s everything your way? Two and a half weeks till your Northern-Woods-Yeti surfaces… Exciting! Perhaps next year Brucie and I shall tag along and the three of us will solve this one together? Speaking of which, guess how many slices of banoffee pie old mate Brucie had last night? Yep. You guessed it. The whole bloody thing. Cost me twenty seven bucks and thirty minutes in queue and the bloody mongrel damn near swallowed it whole! Ah well, at least he hasn’t wandered off in a while.
Kate, on the off chance you uncover the root cause of this mysterious meeting between the Sasquatch King and the Northern-Woods-Yeti… be extremely careful. No sighting is worth your life, eye contact or otherwise… it just isn’t.
I’ll try to swing your way next May but no promises, little lady.
To The Three Of You,
The Amazon hums with whispers of mythical sightings. Bright lights and floating crystals, pale bodies and unclear intentions, tall silhouettes and chanting voices. Well versed in the native dialects though I am the truth alludes me at every turn. Perhaps it’s high time I revisited some of the old ruins and temples with transcribed scrolls in one hand and ample curiosity in the other?
The young leader Kurtis had the pleasure of meeting “Ya’chak Shamek” said to be ageless and all knowing, has spoken aloud a summons. Unifying the jungle, restless leaders from all regions come forth. Whether the whispers are a direct result of the summons or whether the summons are a direct result of the whispers remains to me, amongst other things, a mystery. Where the amazon goes from here - is anybodies guess.
Yetis pile canine corpses in the south, Mapinguari arm themselves for war, the Sasquatch King and a rogue Yeti break bread in the north and all the while Kurt can hardly find a magpie. That which stirs this world continues to stir and for all our sakes I hope we’re ready before it finishes lest we suffer it’s wrath.
Suffice it to say I’m starting to side with Eric... Oblivion may very well be upon us fellow hunters. Stay safe my friends.
Wildlife returns. Well, at least enough for me to confirm that the entire continent hasn’t gone extinct. What caused all matter of life to crawl into the nearest hole and lay perfectly still for months on end: beyond my understanding. Bit by bit however, life returns. The fact that I can’t tell whether they were hiding from something or simply circling the fires, a confession no tracker worth the weight of his compass should confess, leads me to think that old Brucie isn’t the only one showing his age, huh?
More or less back to normal on my end I think it’s high time I downed a cold one, dug my heels in and sniffed out the Yowies. That third official sighting I’ve been dreaming of for years now can’t be far. I caught the tail end of that brawl a couple years back but there’s something special about catching a glimpse into their eyes. The shape, size and glow; catching eye contact with an Abominable is like stepping out of this reality into another. It’s heroine from the first hit. If only there was a way to step back...
Perhaps the stirring we’re all fretting over has come and gone? Perhaps whatever it was that was going to happen has already occurred. It rattled the Abominables, spooked the wildlife and all the while our lowly human senses barely registered a blip. Life’s funny like that. Sometimes we get all worked up over something coming that never comes. Remember that history final we never ended up taking because the entire campus flooded? We crammed six weeks of studying into six days. That must have been the longest period throughout the course of our thirteen month and twenty two day relationship that we didn’t rip one another’s clothes off. And yeah, I was counting too.
Brucie went walk about again. Did his best to get as far as he could. Poor bugger only got about fifteen minutes away by car. The weird thing is once he spots me he turns right around as though relieved to be caught; gives up and tags along happily like a willing prisoner of war. Can’t make heads or tails of it. That said, we did manage to have a good old fashioned heart-to-heart on the drive back into town and Brucie says he’s excited to see you next year. Says it’s long overdue. Says that even though he hides it well- he still loves you somewhere deep down, and likely always will. Says that’s probably why until your father passed that he never wrote you, never called and never dared to mutter your name aloud.
Best of luck with the Northern-Woods-Yeti and the Sasquatch King. I’ll be jealous if you land your third sighting before I do! Don’t you dare do something silly and get yourself killed, Kaitlin Middles. You and I have unfinished business.
- Kurtis Jones
To Nigel and Kurtis,
I’ve witnessed something most unusual.
A confirmed but unofficial sighting; I was close enough to make out the struggle but not close enough to confirm any eye colors or types. Backed into a corner by it’s own kind a number of Antarctic Abominables, prowling like lions, forced a lone Yeti into a corner. Nowhere to turn the lone wolf Yeti, wartorn and well built altered it’s stance. Entering into a state of bloodrage the beast exchanged any and all survival instincts for sheer reflexes and reckless fury: roaring at the skies above. Snatching the first aggressors spine in an instant, the others hesitated. Wielding his fellow Yeti’s spine like a flail mace, head still attached, the others circled, prowling. The next to approach the lone wolf was struck so hard that I swear I heard the thud from half a mile away as the Yeti slid peacefully across the tundra, blissfully unconscious. Biting off far more than it could chew another courageous aggressor stepped forth only for the lone wolf Yeti to shatter it’s forearm. The break audible, the agonizing roar that followed doubly so, the pack of aggressors snarled and grumbled, abandoning the cause.
Have you ever seen such, Kurtis? The Yowies the most savage of the four tribes, have you ever seen a pack single one out? Have you ever seen one kill another in less than an instant? I haven’t.
I’ve seen them fight from afar, I’ve overheard them brawling and I once saw one brought to the brink of death over the affection and attention of a female but never, have I ever, seen such behavior nor raw power. Moving like lightning and channeling it’s bloodrage it tried not to fight only to conquer it’s own kin that were too ambitious for their own good. Whatever it is that’s coming, rest assured, is yet to arrive. I can feel it within the chill within my bones.
Do not drop your guard gentleman, not for a second. For that’s all it takes.
- Eric Winters
Kurtis I’m shaking,
My entire body is shaking. I’m like a rabbit, just been chased by a fox. Or a fox, just been chased by a mountain lion. Or maybe I’m just a person, petty and self centered, just been held by an angel. I don’t know.
I don’t even know what it is I don’t know, Kurtis Jones. Just be here. Please. Be here now when it matters most, when I’m broken and crumbling and can barely move an inch.
He’s gone yet memories remain. They hurt, Kurtis. Especially the good ones. There wasn’t a single selfish bone in his body, Kurtis. There was nobody more generous. He wanted for no material possessions and he gave and he gave and he gave until he had nothing left to give. The more I think of him, the more I remember what it was like to be in his presence. The tremble of his voice, the musk of his shirt; cheap cologne covering up even cheaper whiskey. His hands, no matter how many times washed, remained pitch black. It was the drinking, Kurt. The drink finished what the coal mine started and all the while we all did our best to look the other way, enabling him. Even Nigel couldn’t shake him of it and there’s nothing that man can’t do. The coal mine didn’t rob him of his life, Kurtis, and nor did it rob me of a childhood. It was the drink, one after the other, until only memories remain. He’s been gone a year and I already miss him more than I know what to do with.
What did we do to deserve this life, Kurtis Jones- where have we all gone wrong?
Talk me off the ledge. Talk me out of my head. Talk me back to safety?
I saw the Sasquatch King Kurtis, I saw him with my own two eyes. The two of them deciding the fate of the world together, I drew too near for comfort, angering the king. The being of light however, with eyes so kind they hurt to look at, wrapped itself around me. Trembling, shaking and pissing myself the being’s warm embrace surrounded me while I cried for what felt like an eternity with eyes tightly shut. When I finally opened them, it was all over. The lights, the critters, the king and the throne. All gone. There I stood alone in the woods. As though I’d been teleported from one location to another.
When the shaking subsides I’ll head for the nearest reception. Call me Kurtis Jones, call me the second you can. I’ll be waiting.
- Kaitlin Middles
Red = Kurt
Green = Kate
Pink = Room Service
Italic = Sound Effect
"Brucie. That's enough mate. Hey! That's enough outta you."
"Kurtis, that you?"
"It's about time."
"I've been calling nonstop since getting a signal."
"Where are you?"
"I had your mail forwarded to me from Darwin, I'm in New Zealand. Don't mind the wait. What's happened- are you alright?"
"I moved the same food around my plate and stared at a solid wall for two whole weeks but I'm okay now, Kurtis. Really, I am. I'm okay and I think I know why they showed me."
"Why who showed you?"
"It's hard to describe. They're exactly like them and yet they're nothing alike. At first glance you'd think they wore war-symbols but I'm starting to remember it right. They were more like connectivity symbols: emblems of peace and unity. The red lines weren't war-paint, Kurtis. They were peace lines. I think they've come to unite the four and I think Kurtis, that they'll fail."
"Hold on. Who is it?"
"You'll have to come back, sorry!"
"Kate, Kate listen to me. Are you listening?"
"Kate, I need you to tell me who or what it was that showed you, and then I need you to tell me what it was that you were shown. Can you do that for me?"
"They're whiter than the Yetis. With a fierce red but nothing like the Yowies. They're peaceful, even more so than the Mapis. And they're able to communicate on a vastly more complex level than any Sasquatch ever could. Hell, more than any human. They're from another plane entirely Kurtis."
"I don't understand this, Kaitlin."
"You know what they remind me of, Kurtis? They remind me of the Red Indians. They remind me of a spiritual tribe in search of equilibrium; neither here nor there. Like an Apache Chieftan."
"You're saying that you've encountered an Abominable outside of the four tribes?"
"No, Kurtis Jones. I'm saying that an Abominable from outside of this realm encountered me. It was warm, bright and flashing and all I remember are glimpses. Moments that I didn't just see for a second, but actually felt. The more I dwell on it, the more comes back, like fragments of pieces of tiny little hints."
"Brucie, that's enough! Sit down. Sit."
"Kate, this is important. Will you please do something for me- Will you please try your hardest to describe what it was that you saw?"
"The Apache's traveled far and wide, they did their best to mend the wounds of the past but in the end, best I can remember, the Abominable past runs deeper than we could ever contemplate. It was a pointless endeavour before it began and yet it the Apache's are intent on seeing it through. And I think I know this, Kurtis Jones. Because they knew this, and because for a fraction of a second I was them and they were me and when I returned to the woods I was a little less Kate and a little more them."
"Do you understand what I'm telling you?"
"No, no I don't. I don't understand any of it. Kate, tell me where you are and then I need you to promise me you won't move a muscle until I get there."
"I have a role to play in this Kurtis, as do you. I don't know what yours is, but I'm starting to understand mine. I'm the missing link."
"Kaitlin, you're scaring me."
"Don't be afraid. We've been waiting our whole lives for this, we just didn't know it."
"We've been waiting our whole lives for what exactly?"
"But I don't know what this is."
"We're on a teardrop floating through space around a flame that'll eventually burn out. That's all this is, Kurt. That's all this ever was. Now give Brucie a kiss for me and tell him I said I'm sorry."
"What do you have to be sorry for?"
"Take care, Kurtis."
"Hold on, Kate listen to me-"